I Want
by Viskey HeroMouse
Summary: "I want them to believe I'm perfectly happy with this asexual life I'm living; better that way. I don't want them breaking their heads over my love life, nonexistent as it is."
1. backseat

_Back from my lovely, lovely holiday in Scotland. Anyone who has half a chance to go to Scotland: do it, absolutely worth it._

 _And so, without much further ado (or advertising), on to the story._

* * *

I can hear him on the backseat.

For a fleeting second there, I wonder how I could have let them talk me into this. I mean _driver_ is usually not _my_ job on the team. But I can see how the choice fell on me. BA wouldn't be caught in the same car with a sex-having Face, not in a million years. BA thinks it shouldn't be done like that. – I partly agree.

And Hannibal, of course, has to wait at the end of the ride with a cigar in his mouth, Fulbright at gunpoint, and a broad grin on his face.

Leaves me.

There's really only one way I could have escaped this, and I'd rather not walk that road. It would include me telling them the truth about myself, and I just can't tell them that listening to Face doing the unspeakable is driving me beyond good and evil. They'd only ask questions. Or worse, they wouldn't ask, but draw their own conclusions. Wrong or right, I couldn't stand either. I don't want them to think I envy him, and even less I want them to think I envy her. I couldn't stand it. I want them to believe I'm perfectly happy with this asexual life I'm living; better that way. I don't want them breaking their heads over my love life, nonexistent as it is.

Oh no, now she's making noise, too. She's kept pretty quiet until now – thank god. Face, on the other hand... Well, he's an audible lover. He sighs, moans, laughs guttural laughs, mutters nonsensical words, and I wish I didn't have to hear him right now, although at the same time, I enjoy it immensely. I savour every single second of it. I can't get enough of the way he sounds during sex.

He has the most heavenly moan there is, and it's what I initially fell in love with. He sounds more alive during sex, and I'm pretty sure that's why he drags so many girls into his bed. He needs them to feel alive. I think that not even a fight can make him feel equally alive, not even when we've just escaped death by only a few inches or seconds.

Actually, that's nice. It's comforting that he feels it for something that can create life, rather than for something that can only take life.

He groans. Easy, there, Face. I think they can hear you even outside as we drive by.

She squeaks. Oh, where's the silencer for greedy bitches when you need one? I could get lost in his moans, but her, I could do without. _Easily_. Oh, I will enjoy the end of this ride. Can't wait to see her stupid face.

Hey, what's my hand doing there on the button that winds down the separating screen between him and me? I mustn't.

But I do. Just a narrow crack.

Now I can hear him clearly, not muffled like before, and I hear his breathing as well. It's irregular, it hitches in his throat, and he mutters something. Well, Face and his mouth. I guess he'd die if you taped his mouth shut for even just a day. He'd choke with all his unspoken words. Not that it's very sensible things he's saying. It's almost as if he's talking so much to avoid saying something.

Yikes, there _she_ goes again. Why the hell he wants her, I can't understand, she's in no way appealing. I mean, she's not exactly bad looking, she's a certain kind of attractive even, but she has the sex-appeal of a dead dog.

Okay, I know. She's a trophy, that's what she is, nothing more. – Although I still wonder what he wanted with her in the first place. Okay, okay, okay. He was a teenager, and to teenagers practically _everyone_ with breasts is desirable.

Oh, God, no. I think I can smell them. Sex has this very distinctive smell. Can't mistake it.

And why do I let the screen down a bit more? I'm such an idiot, BA is right.

I do my best to drown out her, and concentrate on him instead.

Hmmmm, he sounds so delicious.

Things that'd better stay dormant, start to stir in my groin. Oh damn, Murdock, you're such an idiot. Couldn't have done without torturing yourself, could you?

I try to get rid of the images flooding my mind, but my hand just doesn't find the way to that button that would wind the screen back up. Instead I unstoppably slip into imagining myself in her position.

And so he's suddenly muttering into _my_ ear, whatever he's muttering. He brushes his lips against _my_ cheek, sighs against _my_ neck, caresses _my_ skin. He presses against _my_ body in passion.

I want to reach out and touch him, want to spoil him. I want to caress him endlessly, stroke him, kiss him, hold him tight and make him fly.

I wish he'd moan because of the things _I_ do to him. I wish he'd get what he needs from things _I_ do. I wish I could make him feel alive like the women can.

I love him.

He doesn't know.

Nobody knows. I'll be damned if I tell anyone. BA's a bit on the homophobic side, although I'm sure he'd accept it with me. He likes me too much to not accept it. Hannibal doesn't mind who I lose my heart to, woman or man, as long as it's not upsetting the team.

And Face? I think he'd suffer a heart attack on the spot. He's the most heterosexual guy I've ever met.

And if these three men don't know, then nobody else in the world needs to know. Although, sometimes I think that Richter suspects those – shall we say, tendencies? – of mine.

They're approaching the finish back there, things are becoming a bit louder, and a little less controlled. Someone just banged against something with a leg or something.

Oh, I wish she'd shut up, I want to hear Face. I love to listen to him. She... Gods above, I will so awfully much enjoy the end of this ride...

"Oh, Templeton!"

Shut up, bitch.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," he says. Ha! Doesn't even say your name, bitch!

I remember to wind up the screen just in time. Don't want to ruin the show, after all, do we?

* * *

TBC


	2. coffee cup

"So, did you enjoy the show this afternoon?"

I jump, haven't reckoned with seeing him so soon. "Whatcha mean, Face?"

"Oh come on, don't try to fool me."

He's had a few, I can smell it on his breath. Well, being sober, he wouldn't mention it, so the smell is merely confirmation. I can't stand him when he's drunk. He tends to become aggressive under the influence.

"You had the separating screen down for a good part of the action." He smiles underhandedly.

"I..." I'm damned. What do I tell him now? Surely not the truth!

"Don't tell me she's your type. I know she's not your type."

"And what would be my type?" I ask to hopefully lead him into a different direction. It's usually easy to distract him, even easier when he's drunk.

"Blond," he answers promptly.

No kidding, he's right.

"You like blondes." He gets a dreamy look, and suddenly I see his face before me the way he looked in the afternoon, after the bitch had left the limo. That one person could look so absolutely contented...

"Small," he continues, and I'm back in the present. "Not too... womanly shaped." He smiles conspiringly. "I never understood that, Murdock. What's there to love with a woman if not breasts?"

Okay, I love him. But right now he disgusts me. "Face, you speak like the worst chauvinist I've ever had the displeasure to meet."

"What?" He looks at me innocently. "Am I not right?"

"Face, just _how_ much have you had tonight?"

"Just a couple of ..." he blinks, and frowns, trying to remember, "... whatevers."

"Yeah, that's what I think, too. Because usually you don't talk such rubbish."

"Oh, thank you." He actually sounds pleased. "Didn't know you put any value to what I say normally."

"Face, just go to bed, and sleep it off."

"Don't want to," he contradicts me, and heads away, over to the wet bar. He walks straight.

* * *

The apartment is first class. He always gets the best possible. Not only for himself, but us too. Sometimes even the best isn't really good, but we can always rest assured that there is nothing better available than what he got us. Okay, so sometimes he does mess up, but rarely, and this apartment _is_ first class.

He left again after that short exchange and a quick glass of something colourless. I don't like him out like this but there's nothing I can do. He is his own person with his own rights. If he wants to get drenched up to the hairline, so be it. I have no right to stop him.

The shower's décor is only this side of tasteful. Well no, it isn't. It's ugly in its pompousness. Perversely enough, it matches Face to perfection. He's like this shower sometimes: arranging so much glitter-flitter-flatter around himself that he himself almost disappears in the midst.

Aaaaah, hot water! Can't beat it. I look up into the water streaming down, and, of course, I promptly expect Norman Bates in drag to step into the bathroom, knife raised and ready.

Gotta giggle and shake my head over myself. Sometimes I'm a little too zonked even for my own taste.

The image of Face sprawled on the backseat, his head flopped back, impossibly broad smile on his face, floats into my mind.

Oh damn, just what I need right now. Really! I swear, I was only one second away from crawling through the open gap when I saw him reclining there. I was hard from listening, and I so painfully wanted to be next to him, embrace him, kiss him. I wanted to come; with him, next to him. I almost lost my wits that moment.

I was only saved by the Colonel. He said something, just when I was about to do the unforgivable.

Great... Now I'm hardening again. Getting aroused, yearning for nothing but Face with me, and I'm unable to do anything about it.

Jesus, damn, fuck!

I used to be able to wank, at least. Running fantasies of Face and me, and it all worked well. It was not the most satisfying sex of my life, but it was okay. And I can't even do that anymore. It feels like cheating on him. Now how silly is that?

I'm doomed to standing under the shower with an erection and torturing thoughts of a naked Face, who's coming closer and closer and...

I bang my head against the tiles. Pain used to help, and it does again tonight. The erection almost goes away. I quickly turn off the shower, don't dare to dry myself, because it would be too much like a caress, and go to "my" room. There's a tv, I switch it on and watch... news... some movie from the sixties... commercials... news... commercials... a black and white western... commercials... news...

It's morning.

I'm cold, over-tired, have a nasty bump on my forehead, and still want Face. – Well, that last one won't change anytime soon, so just accept it, Murdock. Now dress and go make breakfast.

I try to avoid thinking of him while I set up the coffee machine, and make myself some fruits with yoghurt. I succeed – almost. Thinking "don't think of him", naturally makes me think of him the entire time.

He comes in just when the coffee's finished. He takes a big cup, fills it, sits down and just stares into the distance. He's not quite awake yet. He looks rumpled, hung over. Sexy.

I sit down opposite him with my own cup of coffee and the bowl of fruits and yoghurt. It's probably not wise to sit so close to him, but what excuse could I give him to not sit down? I don't eat my breakfast standing at the counter, and he knows it. He'd ask why I wouldn't sit down with him, and whether he'd done something to upset me. Well, and what can I tell him then? You were drinking? Nah, not good. He'd know it as the lie it would be.

Face does eat leaning against the counter sometimes. So if I were him, I could easily stay at the counter and look out of the window, acting as if I didn't notice anything or anyone in the world. But I'm not him, and so I have to sit down. And there's only one table in this kitchen.

"What happened to your head?" he asks.

"Silly mishap in the shower," I tell him. And it's almost the truth.

"Looks nasty. You should put something on it."

"Too late for putting anything on it," I tell him, and he just nods. I think he's happy that he's not expected to do or even say anything. – Too early in the morning; for him at least.

Listening to him drinking, gives me the weird wish I could be the cup... Boy, boy. I need a shrink, and pronto.

"I wish you'd stopped me yesterday," he says with a dramatic sigh, and quickly takes a sip from his coffee to play over the embarrassment that follows the remark. It is, after all, a confession that he's done something stupid.

I wonder what exactly he means. The drinking? The backseat thing in the afternoon? Leaving for a round of drinking when he already _was_ drunk? I have no idea what he means, so I ignore the comment and drink my coffee.

* * *

TBC


	3. not the limo-disaster

"Murdock?" Richter's gently insistent voice pulls me back to reality from wherever my mind had left to. Wonder where it's been... The tulips in the front garden? I remember thinking of them. But where did I go from there? Other flowers? Or more generally to other plants? Trees, maybe. Trees are nice, they're fascinating in a way. They grow real big, and there's –

"Murdock."

"Oh, uh... Where was I?"

"We were talking about your weekend vacation. You were about to tell me what you were doing."

I wasn't, and we both know it. "What an ungainly attempt at tricking me into something, Doc. Really, I'm disappointed in you."

"It never hurts to try, does it?"

Oh, sometimes it does. Sometimes only just trying already hurts. I think sometimes it can even kill.

"Murdock?"

"I'm not sure, Doc. I think you're wrong there. Some things mustn't be even tried."

"Like what?" he immediately sinks his hook into my little statement. He's pretty good at that.

"Oh, just this and that," I answer lightly, flailing my hand, but the lightness just doesn't ring true. The weekend with Face still weighs heavily on my mind.

"I told you, whatever you did to the limo..."

"I know," I interrupt him. This man is unbelievable. I trashed his limo, and I mean I really _trashed_ it - alright, so it was the army who did the actual trashing, but I was the one who put the limo in harm's way, so I might as well have shot the car up myself.

Yet he forgives me. Tells me he's got good insurance. And hey, he really should be more circumspect about who he gives access to his car. So maybe it's basically his own fault. – Plus, I suspect that me saving his life last year has something to do with it as well. It's hard to hold a grudge against somebody who saved your life.

"So, if it's not the limo-disaster, then what is it?"

"Just a little under the weather, is all."

"You know you can always talk to me. About everything."

"You mean about things like how I fancy another man, and get all crazy about how I could get him into my bed?"

"Is that it?"

I don't know, because my heart just stopped, and with it my brain. I didn't just say that, did I? No, I didn't. I couldn't. It was for nobody to know. If the guys don't know, then nobody else needs to know. Nobody else deserves to. Oh shit, I'm so screwed.

"I take it, this man is not returning your feelings?"

I feel hysterical laughter swelling up, and for about ten minutes I do nothing but laugh until I cry, and cry for real.

My heart turns into a tiny, black lump in a too tight chest, it beats against all logic, and hurts with every single beat. The air I draw in burns my lungs, and doesn't hold enough oxygen, yet I miraculously don't suffocate. My stomach crumples. I'm shaking with cramps. My eyes sting, because I've lost the ability to blink. Sobs fill the room. Mine.

It's a regular breakdown like I haven't had in years, but despite that – or because of it – it feels damn good to let it out. Three years; I've been suffering for three years now. Never saying a word, never touching, never even really watching. I've done nothing but dream for three years, and every now and then Face had unknowingly given me new fuel to feed my dreams. It's not his fault, but he's had me starving in front of the banquet.

There's a hand on my shoulder.

"He doesn't know," I manage to say.

"You might try and tell him," he suggests.

"No. He'd never understand. He'd stop liking me, and him liking me is all I have. I won't give that up."

"He might surprise you."

"Him? Never! He's the archetypal heterosexual. He sees homosexuality as something unnatural, an anomaly. Not that I'm not crazy enough already, but he still hopes I'll overcome that one day. But you don't just overcome your sexual orientation."

Richter gently rubs my shoulder. It feels good. Body contact, warm and reassuring. "Unfortunately," he says in a soft voice, "there's no medicine for broken hearts. All I can offer you is my shoulder to cry on when it gets too hard to take."

I don't know where I take the strength from, but I smile. "I know, Doc."

* * *

TBC


	4. out of mind

_So... you think Murdock should talk with Face about his feelings? Hm. Let's see..._

* * *

"Wow, what's that?" I hold up the t-shirt Face has unceremoniously dumped into my lap, and look at it.

"I saw it and couldn't resist. I knew you'd love this one." He gives me that irresistible smile of his.

'Out of my mind. Back in 5 minutes.' I read on the t-shirt. He's right, I love it already. I slip out of my jacket, shirt and plain white t-shirt while we speed down the street, and slip into my new t-shirt.

Has he just stolen a glance at me? – Nah, just wishful thinking, Ol' Howlin', not more.

"Have you lost weight?" he asks.

Oh, so he has been looking. "Maybe, just a little."

"Are you alright?" He slows down a bit and gives me an appraising look. "You're not ill, are you?"

"I'm fine." As fine as I'll get anyway. The only thing that could cure me would be a naked you next to a naked me.

"Murdock?"

"Really, Face. I'm as fine as I'm gonna get."

Oh shiiiit. He stops.

"Murdock, you know I hate it when you lie to me." He can look really stern when he sets his mind to it.

"Can't imagine why," I tell him coolly. "You lie to me all the time."

"What?!"

Ouch, I shouldn't have said that. Face usually does _not_ lie to me. Not anymore for a very long time. "Sorry, didn't mean to say that."

"But you said it." He's hurt, and if I need any more proof of that, I get it when he starts the car again with screeching tires, and doesn't care much for the traffic that has to move out of the way for him.

"Face, I'm sorry." I tell him again, and I reach out to touch him lightly on the shoulder, but don't actually touch. It's surely not the best idea in the world to touch him considering the state I've been in recently. But something's stronger than me, and I put my hand down on his shoulder. Electricity jumps from him to my fingers and surges up my arm. I'm not sure he feels it. Maybe just because he's so angry right now. – Yeah sure. Just more wishful thinking.

"You shouldn't have said that."

"I know, and I'm sorry." Hopefully, if I just repeat it often enough, he'll believe me.

He brings the car to a stop again, and turns to look at me. "Why did you?" he asks heatedly. "I'm trying my best to... to... you know, to keep it good between us, but you're getting weirder and weirder. I don't know what's up anymore."

Oh, swell. He noticed. Well, of course he did. He's not stupid. He picks up on the finest notions, even if he's not always able to make sense of them. – Like now.

"Murdock, for heaven's sake, talk to me!" He bangs the wheel in frustration, and looks away, at the traffic rushing by.

All I'm left with is watching his profile, getting lost in the curve of his cheek, the shape of his earlobe, the line of his neck...

He looks back at me. "Murdock..."

"Hm?" I know I should say something more, and it's there, in my mind, but I can't make the connection from brain to mouth.

"Murdock, what's wrong? What happened?" He looks at me so intensely, I nearly melt under his glance. "Why are things so... I don't know, things are so different between us. We used to be more relaxed around each other. – Murdock, hey, I'm talking to you!" He sounds like he's going to lose his patience any second now.

"That why you conned me out?" I ask, and I fear my voice has a distinct dreamy quality about it. Not because our conversation is anything to become dreamy about, but because he's here, and I'm so close to him, and the sun is shining, and he's shining in the sun, and he's so close, and I want to get even clo–

"No."

I force myself to listen to him. Listen to what he says, and not just the tone of his voice. God Almighty, but I'm soooo deep into deep shit. I'm far worse than a teenager in love for the first time. Maybe that's because I'm a certified nut.

He drops his shoulders, and looks down into his lap. "Yes, maybe. Why can't it be like it used to be?" He looks back at me; earnestly.

Face cares.

That comes as a bit of surprise. I never realized that I might be more to Face than the weird guy he hangs out with when he fails to snatch a girl for himself, or – for unfathomable reasons – doesn't feel like it. I mean, I _know_ he cares, just not on a so personal level, not in the sense of friendship like I understand it. I always thought that to him I'm just a buddy. We trust each other with our lives, but not our emotions; typical men's friendship.

And now that. This new revelation makes me love him even more.

"Murdock, you still there?" He leans over a bit. He looks concerned, inquisitive, expectant.

He looks sexy.

He smells even sexier. Face uses a light aftershave, a fresh, spicy scent, and then there's his personal smell. I've always felt he smells a bit of cinnamon. Cinnamon and wet wood. Creamy. Okay, you probably can't smell creamy, but Face does. It's what pops into my mind when I think of his smell. He smells of cinnamon, wet wood and creamy. Creamy cinnamon, wet wood with creamy cinn–

"Murdock, hey!" He leans over a bit more.

And I do the unthinkable.

I close the distance between us, and press my lips onto his.

I don't know why he parts his lips, but he does, probably just in shock, and since I've already gone that far, I can easily go the rest of the way. My tongue slips through the gap, and I graze past his teeth to touch the tip of his tongue.

It's ...

... sweet.

The world is a completely different one when I draw back, although not more than a couple of seconds could have gone by.

"Mur..." He painfully clears his throat. "Mur..." he tries again, but his voice still deserts him. He blinks furiously. He doesn't understand, not at all. He's so flustered he doesn't even frown.

And I? I feel like burning up in the seat next to him with embarrassment. What the fucking hell was I thinking? What have I done? What... How could I betray him so?

"Don't..." He breathes heavily with the emotional shock I've no doubt given him. "Don't." He hardly has a voice, it's more of a stage whisper. "Ever." He's unable to form a full sentence, not even this very short one. He doesn't even stutter. Usually, when Face gets worked up over something, he stutters. I've shocked Face into losing not only his sentences, but his stutter as well.

Great, just fucking great. Murdock, you're such a dope, the entire world could get high from your fumes, if only they lit you.

"I'm so sorry, Face, I'm so sorry," I mutter before I blindly reach for the door handle, climb from his corvette and flee. There aren't enough sorrys in the world to make up for this. Never, never. I screwed up. I could tell him nothing but sorry for the rest of my life and it wouldn't even start to make up. Oh, shit, shit, shit. I... lost him. I'm so fucking stupid. Oh Face, I'm so sorry, so sorry, so sorry, sorry. Sorry.

He doesn't follow me.

Not that I expect him to, although, admittedly, it would be nice. Even if it were just for the dressing down I deserve, a waterfall of infuriated words, insults, accusations, even a fist between my eyes. Anything. Just anything to show me he and I are still connected. Somehow.

I'm sick.

I fight my way away from him, and I can't help thinking that he should be satisfied with me. After all, I used the door, and didn't just climb over it, leaving dirty shoe prints on his seats...

I hear footsteps behind me. Is it...?

But it's just a jogger who gives me an odd look, and surely forgets about me the moment he's past me.

* * *

TBC


	5. back in mind

_Well, you didn't honestly think this was gonna go smoothly, did you?_

 _Na-ah._

 _There needs to be mayhem. *evil laughter*_

* * *

I spent the weekend in parks and on the beach. I think. I don't have a clear recollection of where I'd really been. It's more of a mental slide show of various places, and they're either park or beach. I don't remember whether I ate anything during those days, whether I was even hungry, thirsty, or tired. I don't remember sleeping, but I don't remember being awake either.

Anyway, now I'm here, and a police officer hands me a cup of coffee.

"Welcome back to reality, lad." He seems to be a nice enough guy... for a cop.

"Where was I? What did I do?" I ask. Hmmmm, the coffee smells heavenly.

"You were strolling around Port's Park when we got you. You were scaring a young mother of two. She reported a man sneaking around the playgrounds."

Oh great. Now I'm a babysnatcher in addition to a nutcase. Can I go back to mental oblivion, please? "I wouldn't hurt kids," I say.

"Guess so," he says with a warm smile. "You've been too deep into la-la-land to do much of anything."

I don't even want to start thinking about the images that provokes. "What day is it?"

"It's Tuesday... evening."

"Oh, they'll be missing me by now. Can I make a phone call?" I finally have enough of just smelling the coffee, I take a good swallow. – Aaaah! _HOT_!

"Careful, buddy, this is fresh from the pot."

"So I noticed. It's good, though... I guess." I give him a grin. "Well, it smells good at least. I can't tell you how it tastes, cause I just burnt the entire inside of my mouth."

"Nothing time won't heal, son." He puts his cup down onto his desk and pulls a form from a pile. "Ok, now that you're coherent, can you tell me who you are?"

I look down at my fingers. Didn't they take prints? But my fingers are clean. Well, that doesn't need to mean much. I've been out of it since Friday afternoon. – When did they pick me up?

"You've been a nice enough guest otherwise, but you gave us a bit of a fight over your prints," the officer says with a meaningful look.

Ah? Interesting. So even when I'm completely lost, my instincts work. Good to know.

"Eventually, we got them anyway," he shrugged apologetically. "They came back clean."

Face must have done something with my file, then. Or they just didn't check with the military files. Now I'm in a bit of a hard place. If I tell them my name, and they did check the military files, I'm busted. Then they'll know that somebody tinkered with them, which will lead them straight to Face. "Good to know I'm not a criminal, then, I guess," I say to buy time.

"Yeah." The cop laughs.

"You should have found me with the army, though," I say, testing the waters.

"Really? Didn't think to look there."

Okay, that answers that. "Captain Murdock," I introduce myself. "I live over at the Westwood VA." Suddenly that embarrasses me. "I..." I gotta clear my throat. "I had a pass for the weekend, then something..." I dropped my head. The events of the afternoon come back full force, and as I look down, I see the t-shirt Face has got me. If only I could rip it off this instant! But I can't do that, because they already know I'm weird, and I don't want them to think I have violence issues on top of that. Especially with that mother's report looming over me.

"I'll call for somebody to get you there," the cop says, nods and walks over to the phone.

I'm dying to call Hannibal. I know that by now he must be reeling with worry. I've been AWOL for four days. BA is surely walking holes into some carpet, and Face...

"Can I make a phone call?" I have to call before they cart me off to the VA.

The officer is a really, really nice guy, and hands me the phone.

"Herbie's Auto Shop," Hannibal sounds sick and hopeful at the same time. It makes my stomach tie into a knot with guilt.

"Hi, it's me," I say. "I'm so sorry I missed you this weekend, but my... I lost myself a bit on the way." It sounds awful when I say it like that, but it's all I can say with somebody listening, and after all, it's what happened.

"Are you okay now?"

"Yes. Yes, I think. I'm at a police station, but don't worry, everything's fine." Hannibal should get the message. "They'll get me back to the VA now, and I'll be out of touch for a while then. They always confiscate my phone when I stay out past curfew. But I'll be alright."

"What did Face do?!" Now that it's clear I'm fine, Hannibal is full of rage. It's the logical deduction - for him - that it was something Face did. Normally Face wouldn't just abandon me when I get strange. He never has before. So it's just logical to put the blame on him. Only this time, it was my fault entirely.

"Nothing. Really, he's done nothing wrong. It's been me. Just me." And just because I can't take it anymore, and because I know that Hannibal will bombard me with questions if I stay on the line, I say, "gotta quit", and drop the receiver. "Thanks," I tell the officer, and then they already come; two uniforms who take me back home.

* * *

TBC


	6. check-in

"I kissed him!"

He's not just a little surprised. "Murdock, I suggested you _tell_ him. You know, test the waters, ask him how he feels about homosexuality in general... That kind of thing. I didn't say you should go and... overact."

"It's not like I planned this, Doc, y'know?" I put some extra sarcasm into my voice. "It just happened." I think back to Friday afternoon. "The sun was shining off him, and he smelled so good, and he looked so good, and suddenly he was so close." I can almost smell him in my memory. "And he was interested... in my wellbeing," I quickly add, because otherwise it sounds just wrong. Face wasn't interested, not like that.

"And?" Richter asks sympathetically. "How was it?"

The best three or four seconds of my life – all the time I've been up in the air included. "Good."

"Just good?" He seems to be disappointed.

"Yeah, considering I've given him a shock for life..."

"That aside, how did it feel? Did it feel right?"

It felt – still does – so right I'm almost bursting with it. "Before I realized what I was doing, it was real good for a few seconds," I relent to answer. "Why? Did you think it was just a crazy idea?"

"It sometimes happens that a patient gets so confused about everything that he gets confused about that as well."

"I'm not usually confused," I contradict angrily. How can he even think that?

"I know. But sometimes patients surprise us therapists." He smiles.

There's a reason Richter's my favourite doc: he's good. Correction, there's two reasons: He's good, and I like him, and he likes me. But as he'd said himself a week ago: There's no medicine for a broken heart. "So, Doc. What do you reckon I do now?"

* * *

I burn to get to the phone. My punishment will be up at noon precisely, and it's now... 1156 hrs. Four more minutes to go.

I've had a rough time behaving myself and not exploding or going overboard with anything. If I'd misbehaved, they would have extended my punishment, and I can't afford that. I need to call Hannibal.

I need to know how Face is.

I'm sure Face hasn't said a single word about what I did in the car, but I'm also sure that he's feeling like shit. Face isn't the best at dealing with personal issues. He struggles and does his best, and he's not entirely bad either. But what I've dumped onto him... Well, it would give a stronger man a major headache.

Ah, finally! – Three minutes early, actually.

"Herbie's Auto Shop."

"Hi, Hannibal."

"Murdock, what the hell happened?!"

Uh-oh. Hannibal is mighty pissed. Still. "I'm sorry, I didn't plan to lose myself!" I snap back. Let's hope he buys it.

"I'm not talking about that," Hannibal says coldly. "And you know it."

Well, duh, of course he does not buy it. "How's Face?" I don't want to know really, yet it's all that really matters to me. I just don't want to hear a negative answer.

"That's what _I'd_ like to know, Captain. Because after reporting – on the _phone_ – that you're missing, I haven't heard of him, let alone seen him."

Uh-oh. Face.

"Now, Captain. I'm sorry you had an episode last weekend, but something must have triggered it, and it not only sent you ambling, it also made Face disappear. So what the hell happened?"

It's not a question. It's an order. I'm not a deserter, but I'm almost certain I can't carry out _this_ order. "I... I'm not quite sure. Face got me out for the weekend, he gave me a t-shirt..." My throat tightens up. He was so nice to me, and I...

"And?" At least he sounds almost normal now, he's getting himself back under control.

"I..."

"Murdock, what happened?" This time it _is_ a question. "If you don't tell me, and Face is nowhere to be found, I have to guess. And my guess is that something unexpected happened. It tripped you, and Face didn't know how to handle it. Now, do you see why I have a problem believing that?"

Sure, Face has never had trouble handling my problems before.

"Murdock, I just want to know what we're dealing with."

"I kissed him." There, it's out. And it didn't even hurt.

"You what?" I think he believes the acoustic has tricked him.

"You heard. I kissed him. I don't know why I did it. It just... happened. I couldn't stop it." I feel miserable, but it's out, and I must finish the story. "I was shocked with what I'd done, but not quite as shocked as he was."

"I bet. – How could you?" Hannibal's not accusing me. He's disbelieving.

"I told you, I don't know. I know I shouldn't have done it. But I have. Then I left in a bit of a rush, and the next thing I know, I'm waking up in a holding cell, and a cop hands me a cup of coffee."

"Okay."

Wow, Hannibal accepts it. Just like that. Just like that? Hannibal? This? I get suspicious, maybe he's already had an idea about how I feel. Probably. He's Hannibal, after all. "When you find him, tell him I'm forever sorry, and that I'll clean his shoes, _all_ of his shoes, from now on until I die."

"When we have him –"

"Don't be harsh on him," I interrupt.

"I won't. We'll be in contact. Check-ins reinstated." He disconnects.

There's no question I won't be part of the search. If Face so much as smells me, he'll run.

I'm such a dope.

* * *

TBC


	7. middle of the night

Sleep is a wish. I lie awake, like every night since my return, stare at the ceiling, and either beat myself up for what I did, or – when I eventually do fall asleep – dream about it.

My lips tingle, and my groin tingles too.

Then I hear Face stuttering out those three words, and it's all gone again. Seriously, if I weren't nuts already, this would drive me there.

I don't know why, but I walk over to the phone, pick it up, and dial the number to Face's car phone. I've done this a million times, but of course it feels different now. Not that I really count on him picking up. It's in the middle of the night, after all, and he's gone into hiding. I don't think he's taken the corvette along. Especially since the corvette is where it happened.

"Yeah."

I almost drop the receiver. Holy shit, what do I do now? For a start I do nothing, just keep the receiver pressed hard against my ear, clutching it so tightly, my hand hurts from it.

"If it's _you_ , know that I'm not talking with... you... any... A-Are you okay?"

My stomach lurches. How can he still care?

"Are you?" he insists. He still sounds none too friendly, but, hey, he asks!

How can he even be sure it's me? Well duh, because I haven't said a word yet. "No," I say. I have to force the word out, but I have to start talking to him, or he'll disconnect.

He needs a second to answer. "Me neither."

"I know. I'm so sorry." I start sounding like a scratched record, a _lame_ scratched record at that. How could "sorry" ever be enough?

"Why... why... why d-did..."

"I love you."

"Huh?" Completely breathless. It's so sexy, it makes my heart skip a beat.

Damn it, Murdock, get a grip on yourself! You've screwed up enough already, so save it. "I love you. As in flowers, moonshine, candlelight dinners... kissing..." the last word is an embarrassed whisper.

And my heart beats faster and faster.

"How... how long?"

Forever. – But no, that's not true, it only feels like forever. "Since I caught you making love three years ago."

"You... what?" He sounds like his usual self as he asks that: indignant and huffy. – Balm on my wounded soul.

"I didn't plan to watch, but there were strange noises in my room, so I walked over to see if I could bunk in your room." I shrug, although he can't see it. "Well, turned out you were already bunking."

"Oklahoma City?" he asks, and I'm impressed that he picks the right night; as if it were just nothing.

"Yeah."

"I thought I'd heard something that night."

"That would have been me, then."

"And... and..."

"I didn't plan any of it, Face."

"I know."

"It got worse and worse, and that weekend, when you picked me up, you were so nice to me. And you looked so damn good." My heart doesn't know anymore: beat way too fast, or stop beating altogether? "I just lost it then."

"Three years of not giving in is a pretty long time."

Tell me about it, Face. "I had to."

"You could have said something."

Hang on, is he sad? "Would you have understood?"

"I don't know. You could have tried me."

Yep, he is. Missing the old times. "I'm sorry for that, too."

He doesn't say anything, but at least he's not hanging up.

"Look, Face, I know I can apologize for this from now until Judgment Day, I won't ever have a right to expect forgiveness." No response from him. Neither positive nor negative. Okay, just keep talking, Murdock. "Regardless, I'll do whatever you want."

He still doesn't say anything.

"If it's what you want, I'll even stay out of your hair and off the team and –"

"Oh, shut up!" he interrupts me impatiently.

Huh?

"You can't..."

I can't leave the team? Well...

"There is no team without you," he says, and I can't quite determine the emotion in his voice.

"Probably not." It's the truth. "Hannibal's worried about your whereabouts." Speaking of the team has reminded me of that.

"I'll ring him up."

"Do that."

"Did you get back to the VA alright?"

"Yes." I did – eventually. I'm not gonna tell Face the whole story. I don't want to upset him. Hannibal will do that later on, no doubt.

I wish he wouldn't, but he'll want to give Face a lesson about abandoning me, shock or no shock. Murdock The Nut must not be left alone when in danger of going wonkers.

"How can we ever face each other again?"

Again, I can't determine the emotion that's swinging in his voice. Regret, maybe. Sadness, accusation... Maybe a bit of all three and then some. "We're already talking on the phone."

"Yes. But that's different."

No risk of me assaulting him with a kiss, he means. "I love you, Face. I want to see you again. I want to see you again like we used to."

"Little late for that."

I shrug and sigh. He's right. "All I can say is, I'm forever sorry."

"Yeah, and like you said, that won't be enough!" He bursts out.

If he kicked me in the stomach full force it couldn't hurt more. "I know." Tears sting my eyes. I'm not a whiny baby, so what are you tears doing in my eyes?

"I... I guess I... shouldn't have said that right now," he almost apologizes.

Why not? You're right. "No, it's okay."

"If you say so." But he doesn't sound convinced, and it nurtures my silly hopes.

"Call Hannibal, and don't let him give you a hard time."

"You know that that's his decision, not mine."

Basically, yes. "I mean it, whatever he says, whatever accusations he makes, don't listen to him. He'll preach at you about leaving me alone, but you know that's not what happened. I left you alone. He'll tell you about that relapse, but –"

"Relapse?!"

He's honestly upset over that little word. "Nothing to worry about, Face. I was lost a little for a while there, but I'm back, now. I'm fine."

There's silence again from his side. "No, you're not, Murdock." He sounds beyond sad, if such an emotion really exists. "I wish there were anything I could do to make you fine, but... but..."

"That's not your responsibility, Face. I have to make myself fine. There's nobody in the world who can do it for me. That's something everybody has to face on his own. Sane or insane, we're all responsible for our own wellbeing." Oh Jesus, when did I become a preacher? Gotta ask Richter about it, maybe he knows.

"I'm still... still... I..." he struggles. He's a smooth talker usually, but not when he gets honestly upset.

"I know. But friendship is... well, it's not what I yearn for."

"Are you telling me, that... that... we... Are you..."

"No, Face, _no_. Your friendship is the best I can get. And I'll take it, gladly... if you're still willing."

I have to wait for his answer, but I wait patiently. There's never been a more important answer in my life, it will decide our future.

"I can't imagine how I couldn't," he says in a thick voice. "None of this should ever have happened, but I can't imagine how I couldn't be..."

... my friend. – I love him.

I love him. "I..."

"Don't, Murdock. Not a word. I don't want to hear it. Good night." He disconnects.

* * *

TBC


	8. good to go

We're alone. I never thought he'd ever dare being alone with me again. Hannibal has organized a training weekend. Well, that's his alibi, anyway. We all know it's about getting to terms with what I've done, especially me and Face. I still don't know exactly what BA knows, but couldn't care less. He treats me as always, and that's all I ask for.

And now we're here, alone, together. Me and him. Hannibal has sent BA outside to fix the tripwires a while ago, and he just left to "check on the progress". Sure, call me Abe Lincoln, folks.

And Face still sits at the table, a glass of apple juice in front of him. He has been relatively normal towards me the whole day – Means he was pretty normal when he didn't avoid me, which he did a lot.

"Hey, Face," I say sensibly, just to break the silence.

"Hey." He throws me a super-short glance, before he looks out of the window again.

I can feel the awkwardness between us grow, and grow, and grow bigger and bigger. If we ever want to get along again, we have to clear the air between us _now_. "We need to talk, Face."

He falters, but nods. "I know. I'm just not quite... You did... you... you..."

"I kissed you," I help out.

"Yes. And now things are different."

That's about the size of it, Muchacho. "Yeah, and that's exactly why we need to talk."

"I know." He throws me another super-short glance. "I just don't know..."

"... how?"

"No. Just... What will..."

"... become of us?"

"Yeah. That sort of thing." He sighs, then rubs his face. "See, I don't know where you want to go from here. I know where I want to go, but there's no way ever getting there."

Backwards in time. I wish I could go there, too.

"So?"

"So what?" I'm momentarily confused by my wish to make it all undone.

"Where do you want to go?"

Does that even matter? I either want to make it undone, or want to have Face in my bed. Neither is going to happen, so...

"Hey, I'm talking to you!" Now he really looks at me. "You said we need to talk. Ok, here I am, talking! Now you do your part!"

"Sorry, just... What I want..."

"Don't say it."

"... is something I can't have. So what I want doesn't matter. What do you want?"

"You know what I want."

Yeah, of course I do. "Okay, everyone's wants aside. What can we do?"

He sighs and shrugs. "I've spent the last three weeks trying to figure that one out."

"Me too." Well, and I've done a bit of daydreaming, but that hardly counts.

He looks at me as if he doesn't believe me.

"Honestly. I just didn't come to any conclusion."

He still looks doubtful, and I can't blame him for it. I probably wouldn't believe it if our roles were reversed.

"Murdock, like I told you on the phone..."

I nod, I know what he's about to say.

"That's all I can give."

He speaks so awfully gently. My heart clenches, and something's not quite right with my throat either. I have to look away, somewhere where there's no Face, somewhere that doesn't give me even a glimpse of him.

"I wish I could. I wish I could be the one you..."

Well, ask me. I wish the same. I wish I could jump you now and just smooch you down. And I wish you'd appreciate that.

"I'm not exactly good at this kind of thing, Murdock."

No? I'd say you're doing exceptionally well, better than me, that's for sure. "You're not half bad," I croak.

"Oh, Murdock."

He attempts to whine, which should make me feel a bit better. When he whines he feels on safe ground. No matter he didn't quite succeed, that he tried is already a good sign.

"Murdock, what can I do?" He asks earnestly.

"There's nothing you can do." Hey, my voice actually works! Who'da thunk?

"There has to be something. There's always something."

He definitely hangs around with Hannibal too much. Unjust anger welling up inside me helps me look at him. "Face, like I told you on the phone, I love you like in moonshine, dates and kissing. You won't give me any of this, so what do you think you can do? What do you think you can give me?" – Oy, didn't mean to make him blush, but when I'm right, I'm right.

"Like I said, I wish I could give you –"

"But you _can't_!" It hurts a little less to say this, thanks to my anger.

"I _know_!"

Great, now we're shouting. Wonderful development.

"Doesn't stop me wishing to help you, though. You're my friend, I care about you. I want you to be alright."

"Well, won't happen anytime soon." Oh, stop it, Murdock, don't start giving him guilty feelings. It's not his fault you're a lovesick moron. "Sorry."

"Well, I guess you're just right about that... about being alright..."

And when did I lose my ability to judge him? He should be upset or angry, but not understanding.

"I'm sorry you feel the way you feel. I'm sorry I can't return it. I'm sorry you feel bad for it."

I don't know why, but he puts his hand against the side of my neck. – OUCH! That must have been half a bolt of lightning just jumping from his hand to my neck! He looks as if he wants to hug me. Oh, do... please do... He does not, of course.

"You can count on me in every other aspect, you know that?"

I nod. What else can I do?

"And I know I can count on you in every aspect, just like I always could. I can count on you even more now. I feel so much safer for it, you have no idea."

I swallow. This could be heard as a declaration of love. But it isn't. I know it isn't. So stop wishing, Murdock.

"I know you'd cut your legs and arms off to save my life."

Always. – Stop stinging my eyes, you blasted tears!

"You don't know how honoured and flattered I feel."

"You seemed rather shocked to me." I squeak. Lord help me, I squeak.

"I was. I wasn't expecting quite... that." He smiles at me, and his hand gently rubs my skin. I'm sure he doesn't even notice that, or he wouldn't do it, cause if he noticed, he'd stop immediately. It feels wonderful. Small, warm ripples showering down my body from this little patch of skin where he touches me.

"What I'm trying to say is, if there were only the tiniest homosexual streak in me, I'd commit to you with all I am and have, and happily. You're a wonderful man, whoever gets to share his life with you is one damn lucky person. One couldn't wish for a better man as a partner."

And here comes the dreaded pause that will bring on the sledgehammer to pulverize my last hopes...

"But I'm a man myself."

BAMM! Here it is, thank you, universe. I lean into his touch before it's gone. He'll pull back his hand any second now.

"I can't live like that with another man."

Yeah, yeah... You haven't tried yet, Muchacho. Maybe you should just give it a go?

"Do you understand that, Murdock?"

My heart goes out to him, the way he speaks so softly and tender, and his fingers still caress me, unnoticed by him. He's trying his best to not hurt me any more than absolutely necessary. And the bad thing is, I _do_ understand him. I was like that once. Or at least, I thought I was. It had only taken one aroused Face for me to sail under another flag. Okay, so an aroused Face is a sight to be seen, truly unique under this sun, but –

"Murdock do you understand what I said?"

His hold on me tightens somewhat, and he shakes me lightly, pulling me back from dreamland into reality. Right, mustn't worry him. "Yeah. I think I do. So where does that leave us?"

"It leaves us with a problem we're unable to solve," he promptly answers. "But we can work around it, can't we?"

"You mean, ignore it?"

He shrugs, smiles, and finally lets go of my neck. "Well, when we're together, I think it's best if we ignore it. But when we're apart, I think we – you, mainly – should work on it."

Get him out of my system, he means. Well, I'll try.

"Are we good to go from here?"

I nod. I guess we are.

He's a great person. I've dumped my biggest secret on him, knowing what it'd do, yet he's here, caring about me, and working together with me on finding a solution. Ok, being perfectly honest, he's done the work. I've been merely following along.

"Good to go," I say. And it feels right. I feel light, I feel loose, not so strung up and tight anymore. I know I can work my life around this new truth like I've built it around the truth that I love Face.

I love Face, he doesn't love me back, and that's okay. He lets me love him – for the time being anyway.

I can go from there. Work on falling out of love. I have a new goal. It's not exactly glorious, but I have it. I can go there. It'll take time, but I can reach it. I always reach my goals.

Good to go.

* * *

END

.

 _This concludes this little story of mine, and it was a pleasure sharing it with you. I'm as of yet undecided which one to post next, so just keep a look out. So long, people!_


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